A/N This is my very first Story so please be kind. I hope you enjoy.
Disclaimer: All of these characters belong to Kripke and the CW I'm just borrowing them to have a little fun.
Easy Never Is
Things had been going so well. They had found just what they both needed after everything they'd been through lately. A return to the basics, just the two of them together, hunting and killing something bad, after being pawns in the angel and demon plot to start the apocalypse. It was an easy hunt in sunny California—easy by their standards anyway. Find the Unabomber-style shack haunted by the ghost of the mad scientist, uncover his remains in the back room, and salt and burn them. It was a piece of cake.
"Where to next?" Sam asked as they made their way out of the spooky homemade laboratory.
Dean replied, "Disneyland?" with a child-like grin on his face. That was when the dilapidated shack decided it had been standing long enough and caved in on them.
The next thing Dean knew, he was buried under a pile of debris and his ankle hurt like hell. There was a horrible, overwhelming stench of rotten eggs in the air.
"Sammy?" he yelled.
"Are you all right?"
No response from Sam on that one. It made him forget his own pain while he dug himself out. Once he was free, a quick inspection showed his ankle was badly bruised and swollen already, but it wasn't broken.
Dean searched the rubble for signs of Sam. He caught sight of his brother's brown hair covered with dust just like everything else in this heap of debris, including himself. Sam was partially buried under a pile of boards that must have been shelves minutes before. From what he could see, Sam didn't look too bad, but he looked unconscious. Dean limped over and pulled off the wreckage then checked Sam over for broken bones, luckily finding none. What he did find was a bump on the back of his head, which was going to turn into one hell of a goose egg later.
Contemplating how he was going to move the sleeping giant to the Impala, Dean remembered the wheelbarrow he'd seen outside on their way into the shack.
"Hang on Sam… I'll be right back," he said, giving Sam's shoulder a firm pat.
A fluttering of eyelashes and a groggy "Wha'?" let him know that Sam was trying to come around. It was after he hobbled outside that he realized that whatever the crap was that covered him and his brother was not just dirt but was the source of the foul odor as well. The stench of it bringing tears to his eyes. He located the wheelbarrow and, by luck, some plastic. He headed to the Impala, opened the doors, and put the plastic down on the seats. He needed to protect his baby from whatever both he and Sam were covered in. That done, he then rushed back (it just occurred to me that there really is no inside anymore since the building collapsed.) to Sam's side with the wheelbarrow.
"Are you with me, Sam?"
A wobbly "huh" was all he got.
He lifted Sam's considerable form into the wheelbarrow, arms and legs dangling out from seemingly everywhere and started slowly making his way to the car wondering once again how you get so damn big when you eat things like Cobb Salad. Just then he hit a pothole, the wheelbarrow went down and to the left while Sam went up and to the right. Time slowed as Dean watched helplessly as the two converged with a loud thud and a jostling bump to his own arms.
At the car, he hoisted his brother into the backseat, the plastic helping him slide in his cargo. Then he got behind the wheel and hauled ass back to the aptly named Hole in the Wall Motel.
As he quickly slid out from behind the wheel and opened the back door he prodded, "Time to get up, Sammy."
"Think you can walk?"
With that, he helped pull his brother out of the car and waited as Sam swayed like a tree in the wind.
"Just lean here."
He waited as Sam slowly leaned against the car then he closed the door.
He hobbled over to their room door and unlocked it. After he flung it open, he limped back to help his brother inside before he could fall like a recently-felled tree.
Once inside, he eased Sam down on one of the beds and got out the roll of garbage bags he had procured off the cleaning woman's cart this morning to use to clean out the Impala. He pulled off a bag, opened it, and turned to tell Sam to get undressed when he saw that he was too late; Sam was out again, splayed on his back across the bed.
Ok, so that's the way it's going to be. He walked over to the other bed, put the bag on the floor and began unceremoniously stripping the odorous, dirty clothes off of Sam, placing each article carefully into the bag as to contain the smell as much as possible.
When Sam was as naked as the day he was born, Dean proceeded with his plan. He quickly disposed of his own clothing into a second bag, leaving only his amulet. He carefully placed this cherished gift from his brother on the dresser then went into the bathroom. One good thing about this motel was that it had plenty of hot water, and they were going to need every bit of it. He turned the shower on to steamy hot, got in, grabbed the shampoo and scrubbed vigorously at his short hair. He rinsed and repeated twice to make sure the smell of rotten eggs was gone then quickly but thoroughly soaped and scrubbed every inch of himself. He then hopped out of the shower, slung a towel around his waist, and went back to get his brother.
Thankfully, Sam was awake and sitting up although his gaze was still somewhat unfocused.
"Hey, Sammy, ready for a shower?"
Dean placed his arms under Sam's and lifted as Sam came lurching to a stand. The stench coming off his brother seemed even worse now that he was clean. As he helped Sam into the bathroom and into the shower, Dean realized that it was probably going to be safer if this was a bath. Once he helped Sam lower himself into the tub, awkwardly squeezing in his entire six foot, four inch frame, he carefully turned on the water and turned both knobs until he got just the right mix so as not to scald his brother. As the tub filled up around Sam, Dean handed him the bar of soap and a washcloth.
"Here you go, Sam."
Once the tub was full, he shut off the water and turned back to see Sam just sitting there motionless with the soap and washcloth in each hand. It reminded him of when they were kids.
They were outside playing Army and had gotten dirty just as all three- and seven-year-old boys do. When they'd gone in, Dean had gone about getting himself and Sammy cleaned up and ready for bed as usual. John was busy doing research on his next hunt. After filling up the tub with warm, sudsy water (using shampoo to make extra bubbles just like Sammy liked), he and Sammy had gotten undressed and jumped in the tub. Dean had scrubbed himself while Sammy played with the rubber ducky Dean had gotten him. When Dean was done, he turned to Sam who was having a blast making Quackers swim around the tub ducking under the bubbles and popping up.
"Your turn, kiddo"
"But I don't wanna!"
"Don't you want to be a big boy like me and get clean?"
"Oh all right. If I have too."
Dean carefully poured shampoo into his hand and massaged Sammy's baby soft brown hair while Sammy sat there squeezing his eyes shut so no soap would get in and sting his eyes.
"Time to rinse."
His baby brother tilted his head back, and Dean took a cup and carefully poured clean water over his head away from his eyes.
Sammy opened his eyes and smiled at Dean.
"Ok, Sammy, just like the old days minus the awesome duck."
Dean squeezed shampoo into one palm then went about gently massaging the longer locks on top of Sam's head. His touch became feather soft as his fingers found the goose egg. He filled a glass with clean, warm water.
"Time to rinse."
Sam tilted his head back, automatically squeezing his eyes shut as the warm water expertly rinsed away the suds. Sam opened his eyes and smiled.
After bending over and taking a quick sniff to be sure that the hair was odor free, Dean picked up the washcloth and soap and quickly but thoroughly scrubbed all of Sam's incredibly long body.
"All done," Dean said as he let the water out of the tub. He put two strong supporting arms under Sam's own and kept his brother from slipping as he got out of the tub. Dean wrapped the towel around Sam's hips and steadied him as they walked out to the bedroom.
Dean steered Sam toward the clean bed and sat him down while he got them both clean clothes. Thankfully, cleaning up his brother had also cleaned the smelly dust off him that had been transferred helping Sam into the tub.
Sam still looked dazed so Dean helped him into his boxers and t-shirt without even asking if he needed help. Since there was no protest, he figured he was right in assuming that his assistance was needed. Dean pulled back the covers and tucked in his brother.
He then went and pulled on his own boxers and t-shirt, sat down and wrapped his aching, swollen ankle in an ace bandage from their first aid kit. That was going to slow him down for at least a couple of days. That done, he grabbed the foul-smelling bedspread off the dirty bed, and put it in a final garbage bag before tossing all the bags outside the room. After hooking the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the door, he ambled over to the bed, turned off the light, and slid between the sheets with a sigh. What a day it had been.
Dean lay there for a while in silence listening as the breathing next to him turned soft and evened out. Then he finally relaxed and drifted off to sleep.